Epoch Heydays beat rhythm time Tempo bringing Glory Days and Golden Age into Earth, Space, time Continuum alignment around my being. Spiritual Discernment begins the convergence of planets, Moon-Womben Star-gazers endlessly birthing heavenly bodies and floating orbs.
Mother Africa as Creator Goddess singing Reign Blessings upon her children.
My World, the ones I saw in my Grandmother’s Quilt and the ever expanding Galaxies beyond Earth, Sky, Sun and Moon-Daughter Wishes, Hopes and Desires.
Ancient hand stretching finger Ancestor Dimensions reaching forward into time and eternity bringing revelation knowledge of history long past yet made fresh daily.
Troubles beating bloody fists upon my pate.
Belladonna into Nightshades.
Tethered by an unholy umbilical cord to a dead albatross. Dreams deluge. Green metal Frigidaire Fan blowing air opposite it’s promised heat relief. Stub toe late shift Dad curses Castro and his Convertible. Bucolic heat wave summer in the city. 25 cent Ice Cream salvation dispensed by Mr. Softee. Martha Reeves and her Vandellas gyrating to Dancing in the Streets while kids follow her Piped Pipers.
Kool-Aid libation sugar screams ensue while transistor talking heads Ralph Kiner and Lindsey Nelson called Shea play by plays. Bygone days of Tri-Corn braids. Fletcher’s Castoria Beef Iron Wine cocktails. Childhood freedom beckons signalling release from adulthood chain gangs. Teeter-totter bring unbalanced superimposed idealized memories to double-doubted times past. It’s 1964 and my Dixie Peach anointed head snuggles with Panda pillow transcending time once again in the loving arms of Grandma Eva’s patchwork quilt.
Warning this post is not politically correct and may be offensive to some. However if you were a fan of Richard Pryor, George Carlin, Moms Mabley or LaWanda Page (Aunt Esther) read on for another WTF New York news story.
Yo Joe! Joe! Did you order take out? No then who’s this muthafucker in our cage? Where’s the babies, Ivette & Yvonne. RaeKwon get the hell away from there. What I tell you about messing around in that part of the den. This white muthfucka damn near fell on your head.
Shit! Who gives a damn! Come on y’all. Dinner is served. We gonna have white meat tonight. Might be a sight better than the regular Bronx Zoo crap we get every day! Hey he broke his fuckin’ leg in the fall! Easy pickin’s. Hold still ya dumb bastard! Gotta get that fool before the dumb ass Zoo Keepers rescue him!
I still can’t get over the fact that this idiot jumped off the damn monorail and into the Tiger’s den to commit suicide. There are easier, quicker and less painful ways to do away with yourself. Why not just swallow some sleeping pills, Xanax and top it off with a few cocktails. At least you’d just go to sleep and wake up somewhere else. No Jackass had to become one with the tiger. I guess the tiger Ms. Bachuta taught him a thing or to. Morale of the story: Don’t Fuck with Tigers from the Bronx or anywhere else!
Give this dumbass a Darwin Award! Sorry but most Black people don’t even swim much less get near dangerous wild animals. So far I only know of one brother who had a Wild Kingdom obsession. This Negro had a tiger (again!) and an alligator in his Harlem apartment. The policeman who came upon these creatures unexpectedly probably almost shit himself. Well maybe he did shit himself. I know I would have.
Black people despite being separated from Africa over 400 years have collective memories about wild animals. That’s why up until recently there were next to no Black swimmers in the Olympic competition and plenty in Track & Field. Why are Black folks so good at running? Because genetic memory throws us into “Haul Ass” mode, recalling running from tigers, lions, and various other predators with sharp teeth! To this day I betcha very few Africans jump in the old swimming hole next to the village. Why? Muthafuckin hippos & alligators! I don’t care if they are herbivores. Them muthafuckers got teeth and they bite. Get on their surf & turf and you will be lunch or dinner. Also keep in mind every last one of those nature show hosts have been white. Go ahead keep fuckin’ with those animals. Look what happened to Steve Irwin. Leave the fuckin’ crocodiles, alligators and tigers alone!
I could go into why white people also go investigate weird noises and/or sounds in horror movies but as the expression goes curiosity the cat or in this case the Caucasian. That saying is wrong because cats got nine lives and are very good at sensing danger. Well that’s for another post.
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